Shotgun
by Skylark Evanson
Summary: He didn't want to believe that this was what his life had come to, the sickening truth of the abuse and torture and drunken nights all coming up to a climax with a big gun and a cussing rant. *Rated T to be safe.


**A/N: Inspired by last week's rerun episode, I cannot remember the name, but it's the one where Deeks gets shot. It's one of my favorites ^.^**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

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><p><strong><span>Shotgun<span>**

He saw the man brandishing a shotgun, the barrel pointed towards the ceiling while he spewed out strings of obscenities and continued to wave the gun in the air.

There was a split second where he thought it was all just another lie on top of another lie in a string of lies... He didn't want to believe that this was what his life had come to, the sickening truth of the abuse and torture and drunken nights all coming up to a climax with a big gun and a cussing rant.

He expected to die, but he would fight it if he could. He reached up with lightning quick hands and tried to pull the gun out of his father's hands, jerking it away only for his father's finger to pull back on the trigger.

_Crack!_

The wood near his feet splintered, and his his heart began to pound like a war drum in his chest. His blue eyes looked to the floor, then back up to the drunken man standing over him with the gun still locked in his hand. He swallowed hard and reached out again for the mouth of the gun, sure to tilt it away from himself before once more making an attempt to wrestle the gun away-

_Crack!_

The safety had already been pulled back and another bullet jolted into the floor, shattering another board at such close range. He shivered and felt like he was going to be sick, but he ripped at the gun again. If he died, he'd die fighting Death.

_Crack!_

Another bullet was loosed and another board was shattered into wood fragments that blasted up into the air, one catching Marty's arm while he stepped on another; it stabbed up into the soft part of his foot and shot pain up through his leg.

"You bastard," was his father's hiss. He dropped his bottle of beer and wore a sneer so vile that it would make military sergeants and generals cringe. "You little bastard, disrespecting your father, disobeying orders." His eyes were hazy and red with angry. "What did I tell you 'bout that, Marty, huh? What did I tell you?"

The battle was over. The barrel of the gun was still in his hands when he stepped back to maybe make a bolt for the door. His mother's bloody body was in the way, but he was sure he could get there if he ran fast eno-

The floor disappeared beneath him as he stepped into one of the holes that the gun had made. The sudden movement pulled the gun out of his father's hands, and Marty held the weapon. There was only a heartbeat for horror to pass the elder's face as his son realized the opportunity and turned the weapon around before letting his thumb pull the safety and his finger pull the trigger.

_Crack!_

Deeks opened his eyes to see the hospital melting into view around him, the nightmare of the past washing away.

"Your heart rate spiked about ten seconds ago." Her eyes looked him over after seeing he was awake and unharmed. Some part of Kensi's mind had been terrified that someone had drugged him or poisoned him. They'd taken out the shooters in the parking lot, but that didn't mean there couldn't be more out there wanting to get to Deeks while he was down. "You alright?"

His words came out a little too rushed. "Uh-huh, never better." One weak hand reached up to rub sleep out of his eyes as he winced at the movement and the memory.

"No, you're not." She'd been his partner for, what, a year now? She knew him like the back of her hand, his mannerisms, his voice. She knew Deeks, and Deeks was not acting like Deeks. "Talk to me."

"We're not doing this, Kens. I'm going back to sleep." He turned his head away from her. A thought struck him; if they were in bed, he'd just roll over instead. But hospitals don't like it when people pull out their IVs by rolling over to sleep. When she looked ready to protest, he added, "Drop it and I'll give you twenty bucks." Reliving it again by explaining it... It didn't sound fun.

She was worried, it was written across her face, but she retreated back to her chair to accept her twenty bucks, to let him sleep, and to figure out how to pursue it later after she'd spent his twenty.

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><p><strong>AN: I struggle with this show, but I couldn't stop myself. Ah. Oh well. R&R?**

**~Sky**


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